La Vita Nuova
by Zefyria Nuva
Summary: No one ever said life was easy. But then, no one ever said that life involved having to navigate an existence you weren't meant to have with a family you weren't meant to be a part of, either. /2k12'verse. Alternate canon. Original Character chronicle. Mostly self-contained stories, occasional mini-arcs, vaguely chronological order.\
1. Chapter 1

_Telling you "this isn't your average OC story" will mean absolutely nothing, so we'll just let you read for yourself. Co-authored by abyssopelagic. Beta'd by Non Sequitur Metus._

* * *

Donatello hated thinking in clichés.

Clichés were poetic nonsense. Fluff and tripe that didn't actually mean anything, in the grand scheme of things. Tucking everything away in a tidy cliché made the reality of a situation less obvious. It was begging to be distracted. And yet, he couldn't stop thinking that it was a little _too_ quiet.

He wasn't the only one on edge. Even in the dim light, he could see Michelangelo playing with the chain on one of his nunchaku. Raphael kept fidgeting with the handles of his sai. Leo had gone back the way they had come, scouting out the hallway outside, and the silence he had left in his wake was deafening.

"Think they're gone yet?" Mikey whispered.

Raph shot him a glare. "I dunno, Mikey, why don't you ask a little louder? I'm sure they'll be happy to answer you after you lead them right to us."

"I wasn't even being that loud!" Mikey protested.

"He wasn't," Donnie said. Raph shot him a nasty look, and he shrugged. "What? He wasn't!"

"Guys," Leo hissed. Donnie jumped. He hadn't even noticed Leo come back—a good indicator of how distracted he was. "_All_ of you need to keep it down. I can hear you halfway across the building." Raph and Mikey exchanged glares, but settled into sullen silence under Leo's sharp gaze.

"I think we lost them for now," Leo said, "but that doesn't mean much. We're still on their turf."

"Which means we need to get out of here," Donnie said. "Fast."

Leo nodded. "They're probably guarding the stairs, and every exit. We might be able to get out the windows—"

"From this height?" Donnie interrupted. "No way! The wind would knock us off before we got more than a few feet. And that's ignoring the fact that these walls are basically _all_windows."

"Yeah, shuko spikes and glass probably don't mix too well," Mikey said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Got any other ideas?"

Donatello frowned, knitting his brows. "Not except for fighting our way out. And you saw how far that got us." He sighed, irritation layered in his voice. "Whose dumb idea was this, anyway? Trying to break into a skyscraper full of ninja. Wow, what a great plan!"

"It was _your _plan," Raphael said dryly. Donnie grimaced.

Leonardo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay. Nobody is blaming anybody for anything right now. Let's just figure out how we're going to get out of here without getting our shells handed to us, alright?"

"Uh, dudes..."

"Mikey, are you about to say something that's going to help us get out of here?"

"No, but—"

"Then shut up."

Michelangelo frowned at his older brothers. They had lowered their voices now, muttering to one another, occasionally making a sharp sound of denial.

Mikey left them to it. He wove his way between the benches and tables that ran down the center of the room. It had to be a laboratory of some kind, if only because it looked like a bigger version of Donnie's work table at home. The far wall held three low, rectangular doors that looked like they were made of thick glass. Pale light filtered out through these doors—the only source of illumination in the room at the moment. Each door had a keypad next to it, with keys that glowed pale green.

Mikey didn't particularly care about the keypads. All he cared about was what he had spotted earlier, the thing that had brought him across the room to begin with. He crouched down in front of one of the doors and pressed his palms and nose against the glass.

"Dudes!"

"Mikey, we're busy!" Donatello snapped.

"Fine," Mikey said in an indifferent voice. "Don't come and see the mutant turtle I found."

He grinned at the stunned silence behind him. Then there was an elbow in his face as Raphael shoved him out of the way. His brothers were right behind him, leaning over his shoulders to get a look through the glass.

If one of them were to stand inside the holding cell, their heads would barely touch the ceiling. The figure curled up on the floor was much smaller than them, however. Its skin and shell were dark iron-grey, nearly black. Yellow stripes ran along its face and arms. Donnie followed them curiously down the length of its forearm, and winced. Each arm was covered in neat, surgical incision scars, from the bicep down to the wrist and back.

"He's like us," Leonardo said softly.

"He's a science experiment." Disgust colored Raphael's voice. "I say we leave him be."

Mikey looked horrified. "No way! That science experiment could've been one of us!"

"Well, it _isn't_ one of us, is it?"

Raphael scowled at the expressions on his brothers' faces. "Look, did you guys forget that we're kind of in a hurry here? If we don't move it, we're going to end up just like him. Better him than us. Besides, he's probably not even alive in there." He banged his fist against the glass. Donatello and Michelangelo both jumped. Leonardo barely flinched. The turtle on the other side didn't react at all. "See? Nothing."

"If he was dead, he'd be preserved somewhere in cold storage. He wouldn't be here." Donatello approached the door again. "There's a ventilation shaft in there. Dead specimens don't need air. They don't need room to move around, either." He leaned closer, pressing his hands against the glass—and started back, letting out a small, choked gasp.

The turtle's eyes had opened.

They were dark and glazed over. Donatello doubted there was much cognition behind them at the moment. The young turtle had the dazed look of the sleep-deprived, or (more likely) the heavily-sedated. But he _was _looking at them.

"He's alive." Leo's voice was firm. "And we're not leaving him here. Don't even start, Raph!" he snapped, cutting off Raphael's protest. "We wanted to see why the Foot stopped chasing us around. We got what we wanted. And there's no way we're just going to let this keep happening! No sentient being deserves a fate such as this!"

Raph rolled his eyes skyward. "Quoting that stupid show isn't going to automatically make you right, dumbass."

"It's not going to make you any less outnumbered, either." Donnie could feel Raph staring at the back of his head. He ignored it, focusing on the keypad instead. Piece of cake to break into. He just needed a minute.

"I'm with Donnie," Mikey said. "I'd rather get chased around from here to Harlem than leave him stuck here. It's just not right."

Raphael was halfway through thinking up another reason to protest when the glass doors slid open, and then none of them were paying attention to him any more.

Leonardo was the first one to approach. He ducked into the cell and crouched beside the turtle. He made a soft noise and shrank away from Leo's outstretched hands, and for a very long moment Leo had to fight down the anger that threatened to choke him. The limbs poking out from beneath his shell looked skeletal. There was no telling what kinds of awful things they had done to him here.

"It's alright," Leo said. "I'm not going to hurt you. We're going to get you out of here. Okay?"

"I don't think he can hear you," Donnie said. "He has to be sedated. Pretty heavily, if they just let him in and out of plain sliding doors like this."

Leo shook his head. "He's still scared. I have to do something." He pressed the palm of his hand against the young turtle's shoulder, grimacing when he flinched again. "It's okay, little guy. See? We're just like you. We'll take you somewhere safe."

"As much as I hate to break up the touching scene, here," Raphael's voice filtered in over his shoulder, "can we hurry it up? We're about to have company!"

Leo swore internally. Now that he was listening, he could hear the footsteps. They had maybe thirty seconds before the Foot trapped them in here. Even with the bottleneck at the lab doors, that didn't give them many options.

He slid his arms beneath the turtle and lifted him up. The turtle's head lolled to the side, and Leo stifled a momentary burst of panic. Sedated. He was just sluggish. Mikey helped him arrange the turtle's arms so that they wouldn't flop around aimlessly, while Donnie hovered off to the side, trying to get a good look at his eyes and muttering something about opiates and lorazepam, and something that sounded like "potentially highly addictive". Leo pretended he hadn't heard.

They slid out the doors one by one. Raphael took the lead, with Michelangelo right behind him. Leonardo followed, the turtle cradled against his plastron. Donatello took the rear, still murmuring to himself. With Leo out of the fight and Donnie distracted, their best option was to move quickly and hope for the best.

The young turtle let out a faint whimper. Leo's grip around him tightened.

Whoever he was, he was going home.


	2. Chapter 2

_Special thanks to our previous beta, Non Sequitur Metus, who has been wonderful moral support, though she can no longer beta for us due to personal circumstances._

* * *

It was nearly sunrise by the time they reached the sewers. Even Michelangelo had stopped talking by now. The four of them trudged their way through the familiar maze of tunnels, taking each turn on pure muscle memory. Leonardo was pretty sure that if it weren't for that familiarity, they never would have made it home. Donatello in particular looked like he was about to drop. He'd never had quite as much in the way of endurance as the rest of them had.

Leonardo's shoulders were sore. He clenched his teeth and pushed on anyway. The young turtle was still tucked against his chest, curled up into as close a ball as he could manage. He hadn't fidgeted or made much noise since they dropped below ground. Leo could only hope it meant he was asleep.

Actually getting him into their lair was a challenge in and of itself. Michelangelo helped him keep the turtle's head above water until they made it inside and he could stand again. Raphael made a beeline for the couch as soon as he dried himself off. Donatello made to follow him, but Leo nudged him with his elbow, meeting the nasty glare he received with raised eyebrows.

Donnie sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Right. Okay. Put him on the table."

The two of them made their way to Donnie's lab space, navigating the empty pizza boxes they had left out earlier that night. Mikey was right behind them, leaning around Leo's other shoulder to look at the young turtle. Leo didn't have the strength to tell him to back off. And anyway, he had every right to be just as concerned as they were.

Donatello cleared off the few things he had left on his medical table—a wrench, some blueprints, a bundle of uncut wire—and bustled over to his supply cabinet. The entire bottom shelf consisted of medical supplies, arranged in neat stacks and rows. While he gathered what he needed, Leonardo set the young turtle down on the table, careful not to jostle him too badly.

He hadn't expected the turtle to sit up straight as soon as he pulled his hands away. The turtle scrambled off the side of the work table, and exhaustion slowed Leo's reaction time just enough to allow him to duck under Leo's arms and bolt. Donnie almost dropped his supplies, and Mikey yelled, knocking over the rest of Donnie's neat medicine shelf in his move to grab the child.

"Hey, _watch _it!" Donnie shouted, an edge of hysteria to his voice. They were all so tired that a serious argument was inevitable—it was just a matter of what triggered it.

Leo cursed inwardly. This whole catastrophe was his own fault. He'd been so grateful to put down the dead weight that he'd stopped paying attention, and now the turtle was halfway across Donnie's lab, stumbling every other step. He lost his footing and slammed into the door, but caught his balance again the next moment.

Leo made it outside in time to see Raphael grab the turtle by the arms—a little more roughly than Leo might have liked, but at least he was restrained now. He struggled and kicked, but Raph held on, his expression taut and unreadable.

The paper screen separating the living room from the dojo slid open, and Master Splinter stepped out. All five of them went still at the look on his face.

"Do you have _any _idea what time it is? I woke up and none of you were in your beds, and now you come crashing into our home with no regard for—"

He stopped speaking. Leonardo watched their sensei's eyes dart between the four of them—no, the _five_ of them—with dread growing in his chest. He had never seen Splinter at a loss for words. And it did not bode well for any of them.

"Sensei, I can explain—"

Splinter held up one hand, and Leo fell silent. The young turtle was staring wide-eyed at Splinter, who stared back at him, his own eyes narrow and hard. If it weren't for Raphael's vise grip on his arms, he doubtless would have made another run for it.

"I think," Splinter said carefully, "we can discuss this more thoroughly in the morning." There was an edge to his voice that set Leo's internal alarms ringing. "At the moment, you appear to have bigger problems."

He stepped forward. The turtle jerked against Raphael's grip, and stilled again. Splinter knelt down in front of them both. He extended one hand to the turtle, who shrank away, apparently deciding that Raph was still less threatening than the figure who still loomed over him. Splinter pursed his lips, and withdrew his hand, resting it on his knee.

"Do you have a name, little one?" His voice was unexpectedly gentle. Leo wasn't sure what he had thought he would hear, but it certainly wasn't that.

The young turtle stared at the floor. Tense silence reigned, one that not even Michelangelo dared break. He and Donatello had crept up on either side of Leonardo while he wasn't paying attention. All three of them watched with a combination of curiosity and surprise as the turtle shook his head. At least he understood English. That made their lives a little easier.

"Then we will provide you with one." Splinter looked up at the three of them. Leo was struck again by how stunned and distant his eyes were. "Donatello, examine him out here or in the dojo. Do not argue with me," he added sharply as Donnie opened his mouth to protest, and there was their familiar, stern sensei again. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young turtle flinch. "Leonardo, Michelangelo, come help your brothers."

Donnie looked extremely displeased, but he turned and went back into his lab without further argument. Leo and Mikey approached Raph and the young turtle with caution. Raphael continued staring at the wall, tight-lipped, until Leo had a good grip on the turtle's wrist. The instant Raph let go, the turtle jerked against Leonardo's grip, but he held on tight.

"Not this time, little guy," Leo said, keeping as much of the impatience out of his voice as possible. All he wanted to do right now was go back to his room and sleep for the rest of the day. But Donatello was returning with his medical supplies, and someone had to help hold the kid down. Splinter didn't look like he would be standing any time soon, with as distant and distracted as he looked, and Raph had already disappeared. Which left it up to him and Mikey, may whatever gods might or might not exist have mercy on their souls.

Their long, exhausting night was about to get even longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Leonardo kept his eyes on the mat, only moving them enough to watch their sensei's feet when they passed his view. Splinter's steps were as measured and deliberate as always, but given the circumstances, Leo honestly didn't know what to expect. There was a very high probability that the four of them would be grounded for life, at the very least. But Splinter's reaction to this entire situation had already caught all four of them off-guard. There was no telling what was in store for them next.

Splinter stopped. He turned to face them, and Leo could feel Raphael tense up beside him, humming like a taut cord. Good to know Leo wasn't the only one afraid for his life right now.

"You have done well, my sons," Splinter said in a weary voice. "Better than I could have hoped. But this changes much."

The sigh of relief Leo had been about to breathe caught in his throat. From the corner of his eye, he saw Raphael's hands curl into fists.

"Says who? This doesn't have to change anything!"

Donatello gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? This changes everything! We've got another mouth to feed and train now. And in case you forgot, the Foot are going to be back on our tail now, even worse than before!"

"That is enough, Donatello."

Donnie hunched his shoulders and sank into silence under Splinter's stern gaze. Leo watched him blink his eyes hard, once, twice, three times. When had he actually gone to bed? There was no real way for Leo to tell. Donnie had always had a bad habit of chasing him to bed, then sneaking off to keep working, especially when something important demanded his attention.

Like an underfed, traumatized baby mutant turtle, for example.

The underfed, traumatized, baby mutant turtle that was currently asleep in a small, cleared-out closet space between his room and Donnie's. And who was, as Leo was just beginning to realize, completely unsupervised. He could be waking up any minute now. And then what would happen? He had to be intelligent enough to open doors, and with no one to look after him, the chances that he would make a break for it while they were all distracted—

"Leonardo!"

Leo started. He looked up at Splinter, who was now hovering over him, a terse look of disapproval on his face. "What is so important that you cannot possibly pay attention?"

The fact that Mikey didn't grin or laugh at him for getting called out like this put Leo on edge, even more than getting called out did to begin with. He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, sensei. I was just..." Leo paused, pressing his lips together. "You saw how scared he was. As soon as we took our eyes off him, he tried to run away. I was worried about what would happen if he woke up, and no one was there to catch him."

Splinter nodded. Leo allowed his posture to sag a little in relief when he turned away.

"You are right to be concerned. That child has seen things I have prayed you will never see." Splinter sounded tired. Leo could feel the unease that rippled through his brothers at his tone. It sent a shiver down his spine, as well. "What he has experienced in his short life might well break a grown man. I do not expect caring for him to be an easy task, nor do I expect his recovery to be swift. But he will recover. You four will see to it that he does."

"Or Donnie will, and we'll stay out of his way," Raphael muttered.

Splinter turned sharply. "Donatello will _help,_" he said, taking a step towards Raph, "but he will not take care of the boy alone. We must all do what we can to aid him. He is a part of this family now, and I expect you all to treat him as your brother."

Raphael straightened, his shoulders locked, and inside his own head, Leonardo groaned. Shut up, Raph, he thought as hard as he could—but Raphael had never been one for picking up on the telepathic suggestions of his infinitely wiser elder brother.

Fortunately for them both, Michelangelo was faster.

"So what are we gonna call him?" Mikey's eyes had lit up bright. Leo had almost been concerned for him—he was usually more talkative than this. Maybe he could stop worrying now. "Can I help pick a name? Pleeease?"

Splinter chuckled. "No. I have already chosen a name for him. It will take some time before he grows accustomed to it, however, so you must be patient with him." Mikey let out a disappointed noise, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of Splinter's mouth. "He will be called Dante."

"Dante...like, Dante Alighieri, right?" Donatello rubbed at his chin. "But why go with a writer? I mean, with all due respect, sensei, it doesn't really...fit."

"Neither does the kid," Raph said. Leo elbowed him in the arm, and both Donnie and Splinter shot him a _look._

"As much as I wish he would choose his words more wisely," Splinter said, raising his eyebrows, "Raphael is correct. Your brother is different from you in many ways. It is only to be expected, considering the hell you rescued him from."

Even Raphael fell silent at that one. The four of them traded glances. As always, Raphael looked about ready to break something. Donatello looked as though he might be sick—or maybe that was just the fact that he was about to fall on his face and pass out. Michelangelo seemed just as unnerved, though he flashed Leonardo the best smile he could muster.

Splinter studied all four of them closely. Leo held his breath, pressing his palms flat against his thighs. "You don't have to worry about us," he offered, finally meeting their master's gaze. "We'll take care of him. I mean, it's not like we rescued him for nothing, right? We'll keep him safe and everything."

Raphael scowled again, but made no motion to interrupt. Leo sent out a silent thank-you to whatever divine power had restrained him.

That thank-you was rescinded a moment later at the sound of something heavy slamming into what sounded like the couch, accompanied by a muffled cry. Michelangelo didn't wait for Splinter's approval—he was up and off the mat in a flash, barely remembering to bow to the shrine before he disappeared out the paper door.

Leo glanced at Splinter, who nodded, the stirrings of a wry smile on his face. He and his two remaining brothers bowed, and rose to their feet, hurrying after Mikey.

He had the sneaking suspicion that this was going to be an interesting day.


	4. Chapter 4

Leonardo could hear the grumbling all the way across the living room. He didn't have to look to take a wild guess at what was going on, but he turned anyway, watching with raised eyebrows. Raphael scowled at him and crossed the room, dropping the figure he'd been carrying slung over his shoulder onto the couch.

"Keep a better eye on him this time, will you?"

"It wasn't my turn to watch him," Leo said blithely. Which was true, actually. Michelangelo should have been looking after him for the moment. But Mikey had the attention-span of a small dog. He was probably absorbed in some video game, and hadn't noticed Dante slip off. "And can we not talk about him like he's not sitting right here?"

Raph scowled at Leo, and then at Dante, who had righted himself now. He sat with his head down, staring at his lap.

"Whatever. You can take care of him." Raphael turned, his face still set and hard. "Just keep him out of my room this time!"

Leonardo sighed, ignoring the sound of him stomping away. "Don't pay attention to Raph," he said, opening up his comic book again. "He does this all the time. Doesn't make it okay, but he still does it."

Dante said nothing, but Leo hadn't really expected him to. At least he was sitting still. Dante had learned over the last week or two not to bother running, if one of them was paying attention. He never made it more than a couple of feet before they caught up. So when they were watching, he tended to sit demurely, as he was doing now, and stare at the floor with one thumb popped into his mouth.

It gave Leo the opportunity to put his observational skills to good use. There were a lot things he hadn't noticed about Dante right away. Like the fact that his eyes were a pale gold-brown. Once the sedatives had worked their way out of his system, those eyes grew bright and alert. They tended to dart nervously about the room, taking in every detail, and likely looking for escape routes. The stripes on Dante's face faded at his shoulders, right where the bandages ended—Donnie had wrapped up his arms that first night, and had yet to take them off for good.

Leo poked his wrist. Dante glanced up at him, and pulled his thumb out of his mouth, folding his hands in his lap instead. None of them were sure how he had developed the habit, and it was becoming something of a trial in patience to break. It was a running theme by now, that they would find him curled up with his thumb in his mouth whenever he ran away to hide.

And once Dante had gotten some strength into him, he hid _well._

They discovered quickly enough that he was adept at crawling into small spaces and remaining very, very quiet. His favorite spots seemed to be under beds and couches. When he could make it out the main entrance, alcoves and corners were fair game, as well. Once, Donatello had even found him clinging halfway up a ladder. Finding him again when he had run off was nearly a bigger challenge than getting him home had been originally.

Leo dropped his gaze back to his comic book. Captain Ryan never had to deal with this kind of thing, he mused—or if he did, you never read about it in the comics or saw it in the show. The most he had to handle was Crankshaw constantly flipping out on him. No one ever turned tail and fled because they couldn't stand to stick around in one place for more than ten seconds.

And there he went, scrambling over the back of the couch. Leo dropped his comic and vaulted after Dante. The kid was slick, but Leo was faster—he caught up in a few strides and swept Dante up off his feet with a grunt of effort.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Dante made a soft sound of protest and swung his legs, but Leo held on tight. "You should really know better by now. Come on, just sit down and chill with me for a while, alright?"

Dante frowned at him and struggled for a moment more, but finally grew still. Leo took advantage of his compliance to shift his grip, so that he wasn't carrying the kid from under the arms any more—it couldn't have been very comfortable.

"See, how hard is that?" Leo sighed. Dante glared up at him, and as always, made no verbal response.

Leonardo carried him back to the couch, and was about to set him down when the paper door slid open. Donatello and Michelangelo had disappeared into the dojo earlier, and Leo half-expected it to be one of them. He wasn't expecting Splinter to peer out the door, or to call out to him.

"Leonardo. I think it's about time we brought your brother into the dojo, hmm?"

Leo glanced down at Dante. As soon as Splinter appeared, he had ducked his head and pressed his face into Leo's shoulder. He gave the kid's shell an awkward pat—Dante didn't seem to like any of them much, but when he had to make a choice, Leonardo seemed to be his safest bet.

"Yes, sensei," he replied over Dante's head. "Just a second." The dojo was the one room they'd never had to pull Dante out of when he hid. He seemed genuinely frightened of their master's domain. That would have to change, if he was going to be a permanent fixture of their family.

Splinter gave him a small nod. "Have him walk up," he said, his gaze taking in the young turtle's dangling legs and the arms around Leo's neck. "You must make yourself strong, Dante."

The paper door closed softly, and Dante lifted his head. Leo gave him a small smile.

"I'll put you down at the door. It'll be fine, alright?"

Dante, of course, did not reply. Leo took him up to the paper doors anyway and set him down, one of Dante's hands held tightly in his. They couldn't have him crashing into a weapons rack or something if he tried to make another break for it.

They got inside just in time to see Donnie throw Mikey over his shoulder and onto the mats.

"Ugh, _dude!_ That was way too—oh!" Mikey sat up and flashed Dante a grin. "Hey, little guy!"

Dante shrank back at Michelangelo's loud voice, and Leo felt his grip tighten. Donnie was more cautious, giving Dante a small wave before turning towards Master Splinter—who was leaving through the door to his private quarters. His two brothers gave Leo a questioning look. Why was he leaving, if he'd just called Leonardo inside?

Leo only shrugged. He knew about as much as they did. Donnie arched one eyebrow, but by now Splinter had returned, and was waiting for them with his arms clasped behind his back. They hurried up to the shrine. Leo nudged and prodded at Dante until he knelt in line with his brothers.

Splinter looked up and down the line, and frowned. "Where is Raphael?"

"He's still in his room," Leo said. Splinter's frown hardened, and he added quickly, "I can go get him, if you want."

Dante leaned heavily against his side. In his peripheral vision, Leo noticed his eyes widen. Splinter tilted his head, studying the two of them for a moment, and shook his head.

"Michelangelo, would you go fetch your brother?"

"Can do, sensei!" Mikey bounced to his feet and bounded out into the living room.

Silence reigned. Leo watched their master pace back and forth, and did his best not to let too much dread creep up on him. This must be important, if he was calling all of them together. He just hoped Raph wouldn't do anything to ruin it, with the mood he was in right now.

Just as Leo was about to ask if he should go check on the two of them, Mikey bounded into the dojo and back to his place in the line. Raph followed him, but stayed just inside the doorway, folding his arms. Splinter gave him a hard look, which he met with raised eyebrows.

"My sons," Splinter finally said, looking at all of them. "I know we have already spoken of this, but Dante was not with us at that time. I want to remind you all of your responsibilities to your new brother, and that caring for him is a duty you all must share."

He knelt in front of Dante. The young turtle leaned even more heavily against Leo's arm. Splinter only smiled. His voice took on that gentle cast again, the one that Leo hadn't heard from him since the night they had brought Dante back with them.

"You are part of our family now, Dante. You must always remember this. Everything we do is for your sake, to take care of you." Splinter reached into his belt and pulled out a narrow strip of white cloth. It wasn't until he unfolded it that Leo noticed the eye holes cut into it. "We will care for you and train you. We will ensure your safety. And this mask will mark you as one of us, so that no enemy may mistake you for anything but a proud warrior of the Hamato family."

He held out the mask. Dante stared at it, then up at Splinter, and then at Leonardo, who nodded. Dante reached out with hesitant fingers to take the cloth. He held it tight in his hand, simply looking at it for a long time, and then up at Leo again.

Leo chuckled and held out his hand. Dante passed him the mask, and Leo tied it around—a little off to the side, since he couldn't quite get it centered, but oh well. They could always fix it later.

Dante ran his fingers along the mask. He wrinkled his nose and straightened it over his eyes, pulling the knot even farther to the side (Leo grimaced, and Mikey stifled a laugh). Then he slid his hand under Leo's again, and looked up at Splinter, a little less fear in his eyes this time. A little more warmth.

"Thank you."

All four of his brothers blinked. The words had been soft, his voice ragged and off from disuse—but he had finally spoken, when not even Donnie was entirely certain he knew how to.

Splinter nodded and rose to his feet, smiling. "You are very welcome, Hamato Dante." He looked down the line, and back at the door, where Raphael had disappeared. "You may go, my sons. Dante, your training begins at the end of the week. Your brothers will teach you the basics, as they could do with the reminder, themselves."

Dante nodded, but didn't speak again. Not that he needed to. As soon as they had bowed, Michelangelo was on a roll, filling the silence with excited chatter.

"Just you wait, Dante! We're gonna teach you everything! Well, I mean, maybe not _everything, _because then you'll turn into that kid who learns way too fast and can beat us all up with no problem, but we'll definitely teach you a lot of cool stuff! I'll even teach you my _seeecret kata!_"

Dante held on tightly to Leo's hand. His eyes were on Mikey, however, listening with razor-sharp attention. And Leo didn't fail to notice that there was a very small smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

After that first word in the dojo, it seemed as though the floodgates had opened.

Dante was still quiet, by his brothers' standards. His voice still carried with it a faint hoarseness, and for some time, he spoke barely above a whisper. But he did speak, and of the four of them, all but one of his brothers responded with gusto.

He learned quickly not to bug Raphael with too many questions. When Raph bothered to react to Dante's words at all, he only said something about asking Leo or Donnie and leaving him alone. So he began taking his questions to the others instead.

"You know our names already?" Michelangelo had asked, the first time Dante addressed him directly. "I thought you'd need, like. Ages."

"Of course he knows, stupid," Donnie had said sharply. "It's been two weeks, and his ears work just fine."

Dante had clicked his teeth shut, face going warm, and hadn't said a word for the rest of the day, despite Mikey's most determined coaxing.

The first time he'd spoken to Donatello, days before the Mikey incident, he hadn't even been aware he'd said anything, at first. He was too busy retching into a toilet and trying to keep the world from doing barrel rolls around him. Then there was a murmur in his ear and a hand on his shell. He had shuddered, a deep, bone-wrenching shudder, but he was too weak to pull away. When he spoke, the words had seemed to come from a great distance, from someone else's mouth.

"Am I going to die?"

Donnie had pursed his lips. Dante still remembered that sharp glitter in his dark brown eyes.

"Of course not. You're just getting the stuff they gave you out of your body. You'll be okay."

Neither of them had said another word, and for the first time, Dante had allowed someone who wasn't Leonardo pick him up and carry him to bed.

He talked to Leo the most, in those first few weeks—though that still meant only a few murmured words, the occasional quiet question, and Dante's silent, ever-present company. But Leo never seemed to mind. He would stop anything except a new episode of Space Heroes to answer Dante's questions, be they about the show in question or something he had noticed around the lair.

Leo liked to hover. Dante had noticed it early on, the way Leo liked to stick close to him and ask him lots of questions in return. How was he feeling? Had he already eaten breakfast? Lunch? Did he need anything? Was he having fun, doing whatever it was he was doing at the time?

Most of the time, Dante responded with nothing more than a nod or a shake of the head. Sometimes he said a little more, if the situation demanded it. And Leo seemed content with however he chose to respond—not like Mikey or Donnie, who always tried to coax more out of him, or Raph, who seemed to prefer it when he kept his mouth shut. When Dante didn't feel like talking, Leo didn't feel the need to fill the space with idle chatter or turn inward and get uncomfortable. They just sat together and watched television until Splinter told them it was time to sleep.

Leo was in charge of Dante's training, too, when he finally began to train—though mostly by default, since he was the oldest. Dante watched with rapt attention as Leo guided him through form after form. This one was to practice balance. This one was for leg strength. This one for mobility. Dante watched each set of exercises with rapt attention, focusing on the positioning of hands and feet as Leo ran through them once, twice, three times.

"Now you try."

And Dante tried. He rarely got it right. Leo would demonstrate again, and Dante did his best to mimic the movements, but more often than not all he did was end up on the floor, scowling up at the ceiling.

The other three always had some suggestion. Even Raphael spoke up on the subject. In fact, Raph was more insistent than Mikey and Donnie combined about making sure Dante did his exercises right—though apparently, in the language of Raphael, that meant getting on Leonardo's case about _everything._

"He's just a kid," Leo had protested. "He's not going to get it right the first time."

"This isn't the first time," Raph countered. "This is like the twenty-first. If he doesn't know where to put his feet yet, it's not his problem any more, it's yours."

Dante shrank back against the wall as Leo turned. His hands spasmed, as though about to curl into fists, but he flattened them out instead. He'd told Dante about that already—how they were never supposed to make a fist unless they planned to use it. He said it was all about self-control, and it helped them keep their temper. It didn't seem to be working very well right now.

"You think you can do any better?"

"Uh, yeah," Raph said. He stepped onto the mat and shoved past Leo, stopping for only a moment to bow to the shrine. Leo's eyes narrowed, but he knelt at the edge of the mat and said nothing more.

Raphael put his hands on his hips. "Alright, kid. First rule: You listen to me, and do what I tell you. Second rule: You mouth off, you're done for the day. Got it?"

Dante said nothing. Raph rolled his eyes and turned away, stepping back out into the center of the mat. "I'm gonna assume you got it, since I know better than to think you're stupid. Now get out here and lemme fix your stance."

"Raph," Leo said, in a stern voice that made Raph grit his teeth. "You can't just grab him and push him around, like sensei did for us."

"Says who?" Raphael reached out for Dante, but paused when his hand swiped through empty air. He turned and glared at Dante, who had his back pressed against the wall again. "Come on, kid. Move your shell. You'll never get it right if you don't let me near you."

"And he'll never let you near him if you keep talking to him like that," Leonardo snipped. "Dante, come on. We'll work later when Raph is busy, okay?"

Dante's eyes darted between the two of them, distress humming from the scales on his nose straight down to the ones on his feet. Raphael's laser-green eyes threatened to burn holes into his chest, and Leonardo's blue-grey ones glittered like the steel of his twin katana. Both pinned him against the wall, trapped him there like Donatello's pictures of butterflies lanced through and trapped against foam and plastic, and they would never move again with needles stuck all the way through—

He bolted. Leo reached out for him, but Dante ducked beneath his arms and slid off the mat. He blew past Michelangelo (returning from the kitchen with popcorn) and headed straight for the exit.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of darkness and the echo of voices calling his name. Dante hid halfway up a ladder to a manhole and hung there, suspended in darkness with his eyes shut tight, until he heard one of them just below his ladder. It wasn't until much later that he learned it was Mikey, who jumped about three feet in the air when Dante unraveled himself from the darkness and slunk down in silence from the ladder.

The entire trip back to the lair was little more than a smear of watercolor across his memory. Occasional still images crept out of the diluted mass of color—Leonardo's worried eyes, cringing away from Splinter's hand on his forehead, Donatello touching a bandage on his cheek—but the rest remained indistinct, and when he woke in the morning, he remembered little, except for those few bright moments against varying shades of grey.

He found Raphael in the dojo that next morning. He'd suspended a punching bag from one of the hooks in the ceiling, and Dante watched from the doorway as Raph assaulted it from every angle. Raphael didn't even notice him until he got bored of standing in the door and actually crawled onto the mat to watch from his knees.

Raph wiped his brow on the back of his wrist, his eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"Show me how my stance was wrong," Dante said. He didn't quite meet Raphael's eyes, but his mouth was set in a hard, determined line.

Raphael blinked. He looked at the door, now closed, with no shadows hovering just behind it, and then back down at Dante. "Uh. You sure about that?"

Dante nodded. He still didn't lift his eyes all the way up, but his expression didn't change. "I'll learn. Just tell me when you need to move me around. Okay?"

Raphael glared at his punching bag, his brows furrowed. Then he lifted it off its hook and stowed it away in its corner of the dojo. When he turned around, Dante had already risen to his feet and resumed the stance he had attempted to mirror from Leo the day before. Raph snorted, and something curled over his lips that could almost count as a smile.

"Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I? Here, move. Let me show you how it's _really_ done."


End file.
